


To Kill a Witch

by dorcasdeadowes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Medieval Fantasy AU, witch hunt au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcasdeadowes/pseuds/dorcasdeadowes
Summary: "Everybody knew how to kill a witch, but nobody had ever told James how to ask one for a favour." James & Lily AU





	1. The Vegetable Patch Kid

There are five things you must do in order to properly kill a witch.

1\. A witch's primary source of spell casting is their voice, remove the tongue of a witch and she will become crippled in battle.

2\. Witches have been known to control their enemies through eye contact. To avoid this, blind your witch with a sharp object or corrosive substance.

3\. Witches who have command over the elements can channel this power through their fingertips. Break the bones in the witch's hand or, if possible, remove the hands completely.

4\. Once the witch is defenceless, cut off her head and take it at least a day's walk from the body before burning.

5\. Hang the body up in public view as a warning to anyone who might consider witchcraft a viable option.

If these steps are not followed you will stand little to no chance against one.

Everybody knew how to kill a witch, but no civilian ever dared do it alone, if at all. Knights, warriors of noble blood, were the only ones considered capable or willing. The reasoning behind this was two-fold.

Firstly, the punishment for the murder of an innocent often resulted in a hanging. Witches, being (as is told) cunning by nature, are proficient in secrecy and almost impossible to identify by sight. The average person would rather cross their fingers, in the hope that they grew grey without being turned into a toad, than risk execution.

The second, and truly the most important reason, is that witches are undoubtedly the most skilled killers on the face of the earth. Few would bother to engage in combat with a witch when the odds were stacked so highly against them.

This was why, when a farm-hand from just outside the capital single-handedly took down the fabled and feared Hepzibah, it caused quite a stir.

Young Tom Riddle performed the herculean task with a combination of high intelligence and exceptional good looks. He allowed himself to become one of her many victims, charmed her into thinking he was head over heels for her before she could enact that terrible spell of hers which lured many innocent men back to her home, never to be seen again.

Once her guard was down, Tom struck.

So impressive was this act that Tom Riddle, an orphaned commoner, received a full knighthood and the social standing that came with it.

The stir, however, did not end at the single historic knighthood. Many other individuals were inspired by Tom's bravery, and soon there were tales of witch hunts in every corner of the country and soon Tom, having quickly become a court favourite, was entrusted with the command of a new order, that of the 'Witch Hunters.'

More travelled to the city every year, volunteering in the hope that, one day, they'd impress the king and be granted a knighthood, just like Tom and the most valued of his inner circle.

And as the Witch Hunters broke bread and drank merrily, a ten year old girl wept in a withered vegetable patch.

The girl's name was Lily Evans and her home, the village of Cokeworth, almost five-hundred miles away from the capital, had just become the location of the country's most recent successful witch hunt.

Suspicions arose regarding Frank Bryce's vegetable patch some years beforehand after he severely injured his leg and could no longer walk for very long or without assistance. When the vegetable patch continued to thrive, though no one was ever seen tending to it, mutterings of witchcraft emerged.

Earlier that day, Rabastan Lestrange, a teenage boy with a foul temper and sour face, gathered two friends and launched an attack on Frank Bryce's house. They kicked down the wooden door with remarkable ease. Not that it mattered though, for Frank wasn't home.

After a quick search of the village, Frank was discovered relaxing by the river, a fishing rod in his hand.

Half awake, half dreaming, it took Frank a moment or so to realise that several teenagers were wading through water towards him, weapons in hand.

Panicking, Frank leapt to his feet and tried to run, but Frank was nearing seventy and leg was in agony. Buckling soon after breaking free, the three adolescents caught up to him in no time.

Given that Frank had been running in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest, a place not even a knight would consider stepping a toe in, he was considered to be undeniably guilty.

The forest ran from north to south, a great and deadly spine, dominating the country's landscape.

Its real name was not largely known, having simply been referred to as forbidden by generation after generation of parent, warning children of the creatures that lurked amongst the trees.

Everyone had grown up with tales of vampires dancing naked with werewolves in the moonlight, fairies sharing the secrets of poisonous plants with pixies, and centaurs battling giants.

A suspected witch even so much as glancing towards the forbidden forest was as good as dead already.

The burning of the head took place the next day. Almost half the village made the journey along with Rabastan and his friends. After all, it had been nearly seventy years since a witch had been killed in Cokeworth.

Petunia Evans had dragged her unwilling sister along, hoping the whole event would discourage her from those ridiculous things she did with flowers from time to time.

Lily had been just shy of eight when she'd shown her first signs of magical talent. One of the roses in the garden had failed to bloom and Lily, feeling so sad for the poor bud, had plucked it for herself. Petunia had thought Lily a fool to keep the thing by their bed that night.

"Just throw it away, Lily," she'd scolded, "It'll only go brown."

The next morning the rose had begun to bloom.

Without hesitation, Petunia crushed the flower.

"Hey!" cried Lily, lunging for her sister. "Why'd you do that?"

Grabbing Lily's forearm and speaking in a very low voice, Petunia said, "Never tell anybody about this."

Lily never did tell anybody, but that didn't stop her from pulling the odd trick with a flower when Petunia was really getting on her nerves.

Now, it should be noted that there are few things more unsettling than the view of a man's head, without tongue or eyes, burning on a pike to the entertainment of almost a hundred people. In fact, none come to mind right now.

Lily Evans, upon witnessing this event, promptly burst into tears and fled. Petunia followed as swiftly as was possible without drawing further attention and found her sitting in a muddy patch of grass, knees pulled tight against her chest.

"Oh, Lily," sighed Petunia, "You're ruining your dress."

With a glare, Lily wiped her running nose on the sleeve of her cream coloured dress.

Petunia tried once more, "Come on. Aren't you tired?"

After a sleepless of camping, a nasty odour was beginning to fill the air and several people were beginning to wander back to the village. The two girls fell step behind a large group of grown-ups and did not speak the entire day's walk home.

When they were finally reunited with their parents, who had desperately wanted to join them but could not take the time off of farm work, it was all hugs and kisses. Lily's dejection went unnoticed.

As the sisters climbed into bed, Lily spoke for the first time in hours.

"Petunia," she said in a quiet voice, pulling the covers up to her chin. "Do you not think it's awful what they did to poor Frank?"

"Lily, please don't talk like that."

"Do you think he deserved it?" asked Lily.

"Do I think he was really a witch?"

"No, that's not what I asked. I want to know if you think he deserved it."

"Lily, witchcraft is dangerous. It threatens the life of normal people."

With a small nod, Lily blew out the candle and threw them into darkness.

Once Petunia began to snore, Lily, trying not to wake her, peeled the covers back and swung her bare feet onto the floor.

Lily winced with every creak of the wooden staircase.

Despite her fears, she managed to pull on her boots and wrap her father's coat around her without a single member of her family stirring.

Frank's vegetable patch still looked lovely and Lily wondered if it knew it was partially responsible for its owner's death.

With little hesitation, Lily clambered over the fence and settled down beside the cabbages, beginning to cry. She wasn't quite sure how long she stayed there, tears falling into the soil, but when she looked up all the plants had died and a boy was staring at her from the other side of the fence.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice croaky from all the crying.

"I could ask you that, you know," he replied.

Then, without invitation, he climbed over the fence to join her.

"Evans, isn't it?" said the boy, sitting down beside her. "Did you do this?"

"Do what? How do you know my name?"

"I've seen you before," he explained.

Lily looked closely at the boy, taking in his every feature, his hooked nose, his long black hair.

"I haven't seen you," she admitted.

"Haven't noticed me probably," he said. "I'm Severus."

"Lily."

"That's pretty."

"Thank you."

"Did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Kill the vegetables."

Lily blinked several times before saying, quite carelessly, "Yes. I did."

"How?" asked Severus, his eyes wide in wonder.

"I don't know how," she said. "It just happens." Then, realising what she'd done she pleaded, "Don't tell anyone."

"I won't," he said quickly.

"How did you find me?"

"I live over there," he nodded over his shoulder at the one room hovel across the way. "I saw you through the window."

"Well, you should have been sleeping."

"So should you."

Before she could stop herself, Lily blurted out, "You really won't tell anyone?"

"Of course not. We're friends now, aren't we?"

Lily smiled slightly. She'd stopped crying a while ago.

"If you like," she said.


	2. Two Men Walk into a Pub

Two men walk into a pub and start a civil war.

Of course, there were miles and months between these two events, but the statement holds up so far as causality is concerned.

Two men walked into the Cokeworth pub and the world paused for a moment.

Just before this, Lily Evans had been excusing herself from a drink with Mary Macdonald.

“I’m sorry,” she’d said, tipping the last few drops of ale down her throat. “But I really have to go.”

Mary shot a glance over her shoulder at where the Witch Hunters were sitting, the place where Lily was trying desperately not to stare at.

“Are you two arguing again?” asked Mary.

A few days after his twenty-first birthday, Severus Snape had finally been welcomed into the Witch Hunters.

Upon Rabastan Lestrange’s knighthood and move south, Oswald Mulciber was named leader amongst the Witch Hunters of the north-west. A Cokeworth native, Oswald continued Rabastan’s practice of almost exclusively accepting applicants from his own village, particularly those he was personally fond of.

Severus, more brain than brawn, was well aware he wouldn’t stand a chance at joining the prestigious Witch Hunters based on physical capabilities alone. Instead he ensured his place through the ever-efficient method of making friends in the right places. Or, as far as Lily was concerned, the wrong places.

The bond between Lily and Severus had started strong. She was so very thankful to have someone to confide in and he was absolutely ecstatic to finally be on speaking terms with the pretty ginger girl he’d always wanted to talk to.

Her magic wasn’t a problem at first. In fact, Severus’ fascination with Lily’s powers was what fuelled many of their early conversations. Once, he’d even asked her to teach him some. The two of them spent days hidden amongst the towering spring grass as she demonstrated over and over the way she could manipulate nature.

“We’ll start easy,” she’d announced, presenting him with a bud.

Severus was keen to get this stage out of the way, desperate to catch up with Lily who had managed to start her own vegetable garden (one which produced items of far higher quality than most others in the village). Unfortunately he never showed any progress, incapable of even the simplest trick.

There was a suggestion or two thrown around that maybe his talents lay in a different area of magic, but it wasn’t long before talk of Severus becoming a witch quickly died out and the subject lay dormant for almost a decade.

That was, until Severus decided to make something of himself.

 “Why are you doing this?” she demanded of him, just gone twenty and full to the brim of idealistic passion.

“I’m not doing anything,” he retorted bitterly.

“Yes you are. You know you are. You’re hanging around Mulciber every damn day.”

“So?”

“So he’s a complete prat, Sev! The only people who actually want to hang around him are other prats desperate to be the next generation of witch murderers.”

“Lily,” said Severus, pleadingly. “I thought we were friends. Don’t you trust me?”

“You wanted to be like me!” she cried, tears of anger welling up. “You asked me to teach you and now you’re befriending the people who want me dead? For having the powers you wanted?”

“I’m not doing anything!” he repeated.

This argument did not end for months until they gave up all attempts at resolving the issue and decided to keep

A little less than a year later, Severus became a fully-fledged member and Lily took little pleasure in having been right about his intentions with Oswald Mulciber.

“I’ll never turn on you,” he’d sworn.

Her desperation to believe him had been his salvation.

This did not make seeing Severus that night in the local pub, being bought drinks and receiving claps on the back from his new comrades, any less painful.

“No. We’re fine,” said Lily to Mary in a small voice.

That was when the pub door swung open.

A village like Cokeworth very rarely saw strangers and never before had they seen strangers of such calibre. Their outfits were worth more than the entire building and everything else in it put together. Every eye in the room was on the door while every conversation faded to open-mouthed silence.

The first man through the door was strikingly beautiful, the image of aristocratic perfection. His hair was dark and long, like a knight from a painting, though he wore no armour. Instead he was dressed in expensive fabrics, modest in colour, with a splattering of plain silver rings across his pale fingers, and armed with no more than a dagger in his belt.

This was a man who was virtually unaware of his riches and perhaps, judging by the nonchalance with which he strolled over to the bar, taking no notice of the women looking on with desire, also unaware of his good looks.

The second man was a stark contrast.

His hair was a mess of jet-black, his skin was deep bronze, his clothing gold embroidered onto scarlet, and he seemed anything but unaware of the attention he was receiving.

He took in the entire room and nodded by way of greeting, a grin adorning his handsome face. Only then did he join his bored-looking companion by the bar.

Very slowly, conversation picked up again, albeit self-consciously.

The Witch Hunters in particular were on edge. They were used to being the most important people in any room they entered and were rather disgruntled at being so casually dethroned.

Lily couldn’t help but stay and watch, enchanted by the splendour of it all. Not the handsome and well-dressed strangers, but the almost tangible discomfort of the Witch Hunters.

“I might stay for another drink,” said Lily, smiling in spite of herself.

“I don’t blame you,” replied Mary breathlessly, “They’re gorgeous.”

“Yes, I suppose they are,” conceded Lily.

Mary tore her eyes away from the back of the strangers’ heads and gave Lily a pleading look.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You have to go buy the next round,” said Mary.

“You don’t want to stand near the beautiful men?”

Mary shook her head looking flustered and nauseated by the very thought of it.

“Fine,” conceded Lily, smiling in fond amusement. “I’ll be right back.”

But Lily was once again hindered in her attempt to leave the table, dissuaded by the sudden swarm of Witch Hunters purposefully descending on the two strangers, like pigeons, in their matching grey tunics, upon spotting a scrap of bread.

Lily rose slightly in her chair to get a better view; her sight blocked by Mulciber’s tall frame and oversized hat.

“What are they doing?” whispered Mary.

“Asserting dominance,” guessed Lily.

Mulciber coughed loudly, a deep a throaty cough, pointed and masculine.

The two strangers continued their earnest muttering and so Mulciber cleared his throat once more.

“Are you trying to give us plague?” asked the first man.

The other snorted into his ale.

“I just wanted to introduce myself,” said Mulciber, sounding annoyed by undeterred, “You look like two men who know how to handle themselves. Knights, I assume?”

“I fight better in the day personally,” said the second, pulling a pair of jewel encrusted eyeglasses from his pocket which matched, in design, the hilt of the sword in his scabbard, “My eye sight’s not fantastic. I assume your hat looks better without all the blur.”

The Witch Hunters simply stared in response.

“That was a joke,” he added by way of explanation.

“An awful one at that,” said his companion.

“I’ve done better I’ll admit. It must be the pressure of the crowd.”

Mulciber coughed a third time, almost violently.

“If this is the plague could you go back over there?” asked the first. “And take your friends with you.”

“We’re Witch Hunters,” said Mulciber as though he expected this to entirely change the balance of power. “And you are?”

“Yeah, I can tell by your very impressive uniforms,” the first man responded. “I’m Sirius. This is James.”

“They’re intimidating,” agreed James. “That’s what’s been throwing off my comedy.”

That was when Severus stepped forward, seething.

James recoiled slightly in mock fear, wide eyed and smirking.

“Your disrespect and arrogance is unbelievable even for knights,” said Severus with contempt.

“We’re not Knights,” corrected Sirius in a bored voice, turning back to his ale.

James, however, remained focused on the dozen or so men before him.

“Arrogant, am I?” he said. “That’s rich coming from a Witch Hunter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” spat Mulciber.

“You think you’re better than the second most respected order in the kingdom?” asked Severus, almost threateningly. “You’re not knights so unless you’re royalty (and I sincerely doubt that) we are your superiors.”

“You’re absolutely right,” cried James, falling to his knees. “Where are my manners?”

Sirius shot James a brief glance as he took another swig of ale, a small smile on his face.

“My brave saviours, I bow down before you.”

And with that, James threw himself onto the floor, grabbing Severus’ trousers as he did so.

Lily clapped a hand over her mouth to contain the laughter that threatened to spill out. The rest of the pub did not feel the need for such courtesy, even in the face of a Witch Hunter humiliated, and sniggering filled the room.

Flustered, Severus yanked his trousers back up.

“There’s no talking to these arseholes,” said Mulciber, with such venom Lily might have thought it was his trousers that had hit the floor had she not seen the event herself. “Let’s go.”

Lily followed after, a feeling of obligation guiding her.

“Severus,” she cried, shivering in the cold night air.

She wished bitterly she had grabbed her coat.

Severus paused and turned to face her.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I don’t need your pity,” he spat before re-joining his cohort in their dramatic storm off.

Lily felt as though he’d cut out her tongue, thrown acid in her eyes, chopped off her fingers, removed her head, thrown it onto a fire, and hung up her body for public view in the village market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading
> 
> If you liked please leave kudos or a comment or even come talk to me on tumblr @dorcasdeadowes


	3. One Foot in a Fairy Ring

**Chapter Three: One Foot in a Fairy Ring**

Lily was not precious about her dresses. Her wardrobe was plain and cheap and had been repaired and patched up so often it was at times difficult to envision what the original garment might have looked like. Even the things that had belonged to her mother had become so worn and used, incorporated into her dwindling collection of clothing, that they had been robbed of almost all sentimentality. Still, she did not have much and could not afford to tear a single hem on a wild bush or rip a sleeve on a low hanging branch. She certainly could not risk any questions regarding why she looked as though she’d just been traipsing through a forest when the only forest within a reasonable walking distance was strictly forbidden.

Whenever Lily ventured into the forbidden forest, she wore her father’s clothes. He was a small man and, with some simple stitching, the tunics and trousers fit her even smaller self almost perfectly.

Once she was dressed appropriately, Lily made her way down the wooden stairs of her home. There was something melancholy in the way she didn’t wince at the creak of her feet on creaking floor boards. There was no sick mother to bother, no father’s worry to arouse, no sister around to scold her.

With stiff upper lip, Lily grabbed her father’s old coat and wrapped it around her. That was when she remembered that she had abandoned her own coat in the pub and hoped desperately that Mary would think to collect it for her. True, she adored her father’s coat, but it was not suitable for everyday use. No item of clothing had been worn more often in the forest and none had quite the same stale stench. But, more importantly, no other item of clothing had a makeshift hidden wand pocket.

Before leaving, Lily pulled out this wand, willow wood, and with a swift tap on the top of her head, she was invisible. Or practically invisible at the very least. She had become a painted copy of the world around her, the colours and shapes shifting as she moved. If someone were to identify her they would have to inspect the place where her body met the air very closely.

It was always important to take every precaution when going into the forest, but on a night like this, with the Witch Hunters riled up and looking for an excuse to make a show of their power, a single mistake could cost Lily her life.

The trip to the forest was as uneventful as ever, but Lily’s nerves settled only when she was hidden by the trees, could no longer see the village behind her.

With a giddy breath, Lily removed the charm she’d cast on herself and became visible once more.

This was where she felt safe. This was where she could be free.

She took great delight in the patterns the branches above cast on her skin where the moonlight shone through, her pale skin made even paler in the reflection of the night’s sky.

She wandered for a while, climbing carefully through thickets, simply enjoying the unnatural silence that she found in the densest parts of the forest.

“I’m gonna have to leave you here,” came a male voice, formal and familiar.

Lily stopped dead, balancing on a fallen trunk and praying that the rotting wood would withstand the weight of her.

“I know, but you’re not going to fit through now, are you?” asked the same man.

Was he talking to himself?

As stealthily as was possible with twigs and dead leaves coating the forest floor, Lily stepped off of the log and walked in the general direction of the man’s voice.

Helpfully, he spoke once more.

“Good boy,” he said.

He was close, as was his taciturn companion.

And there he was: one of the strangers who had walked into the pub earlier that evening. James. That was the name his friend gave for him. And he was talking to a horse.

He looked different and Lily quickly realised it was because he was wearing spectacles, only these were nothing like the jewelled ones he’d pulled out earlier. These spectacles were plain and black, balancing precariously on his long nose and attached to a simple string around his neck.

He gave his horse a friendly pat on the neck before he began to push his way through the wall of branches and bushes before him. No doubt, Lily thought, making his way towards the clearing that lay just beyond, barely visible.

Lily followed after a moment, placing her feet as carefully as possible, and giving the horse a quick stroke on his grey speckled nose.

Experience allowed Lily to find the easiest way through, reaching the clearing just before James did. She used this time to hide behind a nearby tree, allowing the darkness to cloak her.

Now, Lily was not generally in the business of spying on strangers, but how could she not be curious?

Nobody ever came into the forest, nobody but witches or werewolves or vampires. And, with the way he had spoken to the Witch Hunters with such outright disrespect he was either none of these, incredibly powerful, or incredibly foolhardy.

The latter seemed possible, but the way he was strolling through the grass and towards the pond, without so much as a glance at the ground, Lily was inclined to believe he knew little to nothing of the forest.

Lily strained her eyes, watching wherever his boots landed. He was a good twenty feet away, but she knew this area, she knew what to look for, and James was about to step right where no one should ever step.

“Wait!” cried Lily, rushing out from hiding and into the light.

James froze in shock, but it was too late; one of his feet was already firmly placed in a circle of mushrooms.

“That’s a fairy ring,” she explained breathlessly, moving quickly and carefully towards him.

James looked down and then back up at Lily, his face the picture of confusion.

“Where did you come from?” he asked.

“I was watching you to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid or dangerous.”

He seemed genuinely offended, but he did not move and Lily was grateful for that.

“Do I not look like I know my way around a magical forest?” he said.

“No. You absolutely don’t.”

Before James could retort, there was a sudden surge of shrieking and he was surrounded by a swarm of fuming fairies. They pulled at the gold on his clothing, ripped off his cloak, clawed at his sword.

“Hey!” cried Lily, “Stop that.”

The tiny but deadly creatures did not acknowledge Lily.

“Oi!” said James, swatting at one who tried to scratch his face.

“Don’t do that! You’ll just make them angry.”

“Angrier than this?”

One of the smallest fairies hissed in James’ face. James, in turn, hissed back.

Lily tried to ignore the commotion and concentrated instead on remembering what you were supposed to do if you got caught in a fairy ring. Fairies accept payment, but not from anyone caught in a ring. If you’re caught in a ring then you and everything on your person is property of the fairies. So Lily had to exchange something for James, something of equal value to all the exceptionally expensive things James was wearing combined.

“Here! Take this!” she cried, removing her wand from her coat before holding the garment out in offering.

Finally, the fairies halted. A handful flitted over to inspect the old coat. Then, with a quick high pitched whisper of a conversation, the rest of the fairies released James to help the others carry the heavy brown coat.

“Get out before they change their mind,” said Lily with a slight tone of impatience as she watched James inspect his newly tattered clothing.

“Right, yeah,” he replied, pulling his foot to safety and backing away.

Lily took this moment to shove her wand into her boot.

It wasn’t long until the fairies had pulled the coat into the large oak tree nearby and vanished completely.

“Thanks for that,” said James breathily. “I’m James.”

“Lily,” she said.

“What was with the coat?”

“I had to trade something more valuable than all of this,” replied Lily, making a vague gesture towards James.

“Which was… that old coat?”

“Sentimental value,” explained Lily quickly. “Now, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Can’t a man just take a casual stroll through a dangerous magical forest?”

Lily narrowed her eyes sceptically.

“What?” cried James in defence.

“Look you’re clearly not from around here. I’d bet you were raised on a fancy estate or in the capital.”

“Maybe,” he conceded.

“And I can’t believe you’ve ever been near the Forbidden Forest before. I know you get fairy rings down south.”

“I did not know that and I’ll probably be more wary of mushrooms from now on.”

Lily smiled slightly, shaking her head.

“Okay, I get the picture,” said James. “It’s clearly very obvious that this isn’t something I normally do. But why, other than the fact that you just saved my life, should I tell you what I’m here for?”

“So I can help you do whatever it is you need to do and get you out of here before I have to trade my undergarments to stop a unicorn for devouring you.”

James looked torn for a moment, scrunching up his face in thought.

Finally he said, “Fine. I’m looking for wolfsbane. This is the furthest south it grows.”

“How do you know that?”

“A witch told me.”

“Well you’re in luck. There’s some by a lake not far from here.”

“How do you know that?”

“A witch told me,” she replied. Then, with a nod over her shoulder back in the direction they’d come from, she said, “Now let’s go get your horse.”

“Oh, you’ve met Fleamount?” cried James excitedly, following Lily’s lead as she began to walk.

“Excuse me?”

“Fleamount. My horse.”

At Lily’s frown James added, “He’s named after my father.”

“Your father’s called Fleamount?”

“No,” he scoffed. “That’d be ridiculous. He’s called Fleamont.”       

Lily asked no further questions but readily answered James’ various inquiries regarding the forest and other various magical things until they reached the white and grey steed, standing exactly where James had left him.

“Hey, boy. Good to see you stayed out of trouble,” said James fondly, rubbing his nose against Fleamount’s.

“He can come with us. I know a way that’s pretty clear.”

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed with a clap that somehow did not startle the horse. “But first there’s someone I need to find. You see, my friend was with me but we split up to save time.”

“A terrible decision,” commented Lily. “Which way did he go?”

“North.”

“Right. On your horse,” she said. “No time to lose.”

Lily hadn’t ridden many horses in her life, but she took James’ hand without hesitation and allowed him to pull her up and squeeze onto the back of Fleamount’s saddle.

They rode as quickly as possible through the trees, James following Lily’s directions, and soon they were at the spot where James and his friend had parted ways. And there he was, lounging against a tree and twirling a purple flower between his fingers. A chestnut mare grazed just a few feet away.

“Sirius! You found it?” asked James, jumping onto the ground.

“Yeah, there are loads growing by a lake about a five minute walk in. What happened to you?”

“I was attacked by vicious fairies. How do you not have a single scratch?”

“Because I’m graceful and respectful of nature.”

As they bickered, Lily tried to climb off of Fleamount while preserving her dignity. With the thud of her boots hitting the ground, Sirius looked up and caught her eye.

“Who’s she?” he said to James.

“A witch I think.”

“I can speak for myself,” she cried from Fleamount’s side.

“Are you a witch?” Sirius asked, so calm and unassuming Lily felt no need or desire to lie.

“Yes.”

Sirius nodded as though is approval before saying, “Alright, let’s go get a drink.”

“Do you think you two can make it out alive?” questioned Lily.

“You’re not coming?” said James with a grin. “I’m sure I owe you a drink."

If he hadn’t added a wink, Lily would have probably accepted. Still, she was growing cold without her coat and so she said, “I’ll come, but I’m buying my own drinks.”

James’ face fell slightly, but his voice expressed little disappointment.

“Have it your way,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Lily led the way as Sirius and James led their horses, talking about people Lily did not know. Soon, they were at the edge of the forest. Lily insisted on performing a disillusionment charm on the three of them, in spite of the boys’ claims that they could easily take on a gang of Witch Hunters.

“We’re going to that barn,” said Lily. “And when we get there I’ll remove the charm.”

 Lily knew they had arrived at the sound their voices ringing out.

“A word of advice,” she began, knocking both of them on the head with her wand a little harder than was probably necessary, “People can still hear you.”

“What people?” asked James, rubbing his head where Lily had whacked him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“I have a sore head,” he retorted.

“And I would like to end this conversation and go get a drink,” said Sirius.

“A good idea,” agreed James.

“Hang on,” said Lily, pointing a finger at James’ torn clothing. “You can’t go in dressed like that.”

“I’ll say I got into a fight.”

“With who?”

“Well, what’s dangerous around here?” he asked.

“I don’t know. There are a few wild dogs.”

“Brilliant. If anyone asks I fought a wild dog.”

“How often do dogs attack people?” said Sirius, falling into step with James as he started to stroll towards the village. “And how much damage could one do?”

“One killed a child a couple of months ago,” offered Lily.

“Sirius shrugged and said, “Good enough, I suppose.”

“Besides,” added Lily with a chuckle, “I’m sure most people would love to see one of you knocked down a peg or two.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your little Witch Hunters like us much,” said Sirius. “Especially not you, James.”

“Well, hopefully they won’t be there,” muttered Lily.

And the Witch Hunters were not in the pub when they arrived, but one was.

Severus Snape was leaning against the bar, nursing a flagon of ale and looking rather drunk.

“Oh, it’s the ugly one,” said Sirius with distaste.

“They’re all ugly,” argued James. “Let’s call him the ugliest.”

“I’ll grab a table,” said Lily, walking quickly over to the table furthest from the bar.

Not that it mattered where she sat. James seemed determined to cause a scene.

“Oh, look, it’s our old friend,” he said loudly, moving to lean beside Severus.

“What do you want?” he spat in response, his words slightly slurred.

“I wanted to apologise for showing everyone how dirty your underwear is.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and joined Lily at her table.

“I’m too tired for this rubbish,” he said by way of explanation and settled back in his seat to watch James.

“Why is James picking on him?” asked Lily.

“Probably because he’s a bit of a twat.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

Lily did not hear what James had just said to Severus, but it must have not been particularly pleasant as Severus suddenly cried out, “I’ll fight you right now. Come on.”

He pulled out his new sword and shakily pointed it at James’ chest.

With an almost pitying look, James used his own, far more extravagant sword, to not only knock Severus’ sword out of his hand, but Severus himself to the ground.

Drunk as he was, he toppled easily, his arse hitting the stone floor so loudly you could almost hear the bruises being formed.

“Look at how the mighty Witch Hunter has fallen,” laughed James, spinning his sword in his hand before lowering it to slightly touch Severus’ chest.

Lily had had enough.

“James,” she said furiously, storming over to the bar. “Put your sword away and let him go.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked with a smirk.

“No.”

“Alright. I’ll let him go. But only if you let me buy you a drink.”

Lily recoiled before snapping, “I’d rather drink out of a pig trough.”

James’ smirk did not fade, but appeared more and more forced as he put his sword back into his scabbard.

Severus stared up at Lily with an open mouth, pallid and sweaty and completely pathetic.

“You don’t need to say anything. I know you don’t need my pity.”

With that, Lily fled the building, stopping only to grab what was now the only coat she owned which was hanging by the door.

The only thing that soothed her as she lay in bed that night, jaw clenched and full of venom, was the knowledge that she would never have to see James again. And, as far as she could predict, this was a very reasonable belief.

For how was she to know he would turn up on her doorstep three weeks later with a desperate plead for help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading
> 
> kudos and comments are always welcome


	4. What Was Once a Farmhouse

James and Sirius reached the capital just in time for the knighting of their dear friend Peter Pettigrew. Upon hearing this, the two men galloped, horrified, towards an abandoned farmhouse some miles away from the city.

James practically threw himself from Fleamount before banging his fist on the heavily reinforced wooden door. A moment later, he was greeted with the vision of his third and final dearest friend, Remus Lupin, looking sicker and far more scarred than the day James and Sirius had left to find the Wolfsbane. His mousy hair had grown long and unkempt, his skin grey and colourless from a lack of sunlight.

“You’ve heard,” said Remus weakly, noting the appalled look on James’ face.

“That son of a bitch!” cried Sirius as he arrived at James’ shoulder.  “I’m going to kill him.”

“That might draw some attention,” pointed out Remus.

James pushed past Remus into the dark farmhouse. All the windows were boarded up several times over and so the only source of light was a scattering of candles across various pieces of cheap, broken furniture, all covered in what appeared to be long claw marks.

It was the most private place they knew of, not simply because of its remote location and covered windows, but because everybody believed the farmhouse to be haunted. Odd screaming and howling had been heard coming from the building for almost fifteen years and, due to this, everyone gave even the fields surrounding the farmhouse a wide berth.

“Was it Bertha?” asked James solemnly as he perched on the edge of the rickety wooden bed.

Sitting beside him, Remus answered sadly, “Of course it was.”

They both hung their heads for a moment before they heard a crash that snapped their attention to the door.

“Sorry,” said Sirius.

He had thrown the heavy iron lock against the wall during his attempt to shut them inside safely.

“I’ll fix that.”

“You’ve got a week,” Remus warned him in voice so calm it sounded more like a gentle reminder.

“I know,” said Sirius quickly before joining his friends in the far corner, choosing to lean against a nearby table rather than add any further weight to the already on the brink of breaking bed.

An uncharacteristic silence fell between the three of them as their minds wandered similar but importantly different paths.

“Is it too late to save Bertha?” asked Sirius.

“How do we kill him without losing our heads for it?” asked Remus.

“Who’s going to make the Wolfsbane potion?” asked James.

The answers were yes, you don’t, and you already know who.

“That witch,” said James slowly, “Lily.”

“The one who rejected you horribly in public?” said Sirius.

“The very same.”

“You met a witch?” queried Remus.

“Yeah,” replied Sirius. “She saved James’ life then humiliated him in front of a pub full of people. It was quite something.”

“This is off topic,” said James, waving a careless hand. “I was just wondering if she could make the potion for us.”

“I can’t ask you to travel all the way back up north,” said Remus.

“You don’t have to ask. I’m doing it anyway.”

Remus turned and gave James a weary grin.

“He couldn’t have waited,” spat Sirius. “He couldn’t have at least waited until she saved your life?”

“Sirius,” said Remus sternly, more energy in those words than he had exhibited during their entire conversation. “This is not about me. Peter killed a woman.”

 “I know that!” he cried. “But if he cared about you at all-”

“He obviously didn’t.”

“It had to be when we were gone,” said James. “We would have protected Bertha. He knew that.”

“He was always cleverer than you gave him credit for,” said Remus.

And Bertha hadn’t been very clever at all was the unvoiced thought they all shared in that moment. She’d been sweet and keen and gifted at potion-making, but she was easily led and talked far more than someone who should have been keeping a low profile did.

Remus knew her best, growing up next door to her and often catching her doing odd things like planting rocks in the garden or staring up at the stars, muttering under her breath. It was really a wonder she’d lived as long as she had done. Not that that made it any better.

This was how Remus had known, for as long as he could remember, that he was living next to a witch. Which was perfectly fine by him as he himself was something far more dangerous: a werewolf.

His father had found the farmhouse for him and, in the years following, his friends, who were too smart to see through the lies he told regarding his absence every single full moon, helped renovate the place to prevent any chance of escape when he turned.

Bertha came much later when being locked up began to take a nasty toll on Remus’ health. With nothing but his own company and a small dark room, the wolf had nothing to claw at, to bite at, the rip the flesh off of, but itself. And although the fangs and fur faded with the sunrise, the scars did not.

“Why don’t you just go to the woods?” Sirius had asked.

“Because I don’t want to kill someone by accident,” snapped Remus with such venom that nobody had questioned this since.

Remus’ mother, in her desperation, had gone to Bertha and begged for some solution, hoping for a magical ointment perhaps, which would soothe her son’s wounds. Bertha delivered so much more.

“There’s a potion,” she’d told Remus and his mother. “I read about it once. If you can get me the ingredients, it’ll put him to sleep the whole time he’s the wolf.”

“So I won’t attack anything?”

“I shouldn’t think so. I don’t know how violent a sleeper you are.”

When Remus told his friends of this potion, plans were immediately put into place. Sirius and James journeyed north for the wolfsbane while the more mild-mannered Peter remained behind and stayed with Remus in the farmhouse where he had begun to live permanently. There are only, after all, so many excuses a person can come up with to explain such heavy scarring.

Bertha’s potion was to, effectively, save Remus’ life. Until Peter had traded both of them for a shiny title.

“I’ll set off right away,” said James. “We won’t find another witch as careless as Bertha any time soon.”

“So you’re off to fetch your fair maiden?” asked Sirius in jest.

“Exactly. Now, make sure he eats.”

“I’m right here,” complained Remus.

James merely winked before departing immediately, not even stopping in to see his parents.

The following ten days left with only Fleamount for company (who was not a particularly talented conversationalist, what with being a horse and all) gave James a lot of time to worry about Remus. In fact, by the time he had reached Cokeworth his head was full of so much Remus worry he’d forgotten entirely how badly he’d left things with Lily.

After asking around, he quickly found her home and as soon as she answered the door he blurted out, “I need you.”

Lily recoiled and slammed the door in his face.

See, everybody knew how to kill a witch, but nobody had ever told James how to ask one for a favour.

 


	5. Yellow Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been abandoned for too long. I hope you enjoy this update! <3

As the door slammed in his face, James recalled vividly the sour note he had left things with Lily. He took a deep breath and knocked again. After a few moments without a response, he knocked again. Then again. Then, when it became clear she was deliberately ignoring him, he decided to try something that had only served to land him in trouble with Lily in their previous encounters; he was going to speak to her.

“I didn’t mean I need you in a romantic way,” he said, “I’m not here to make an impassioned declaration. I’m here because I need your help.”

He heard the creaking of floorboards getting closer and closer towards him. Then, just when he thought the door would open again, there was silence.

Lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder, James added, “Please help me.”

At that, the door flung open and James was pulled inside the house so quickly the world blurred. He removed his bejewelled spectacles and palmed his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden dimness. It was only when he put them back on that he begun to understood the poverty of this village. From the outside, when seen in relation to all the other homes in Cokeworth, Lily’s home didn’t seem particularly rundown. But now, in the mid-morning low-light, submerged fully in this small world, he felt his life in stark contradiction to hers.

“It’s nice,” he said, unable to help himself.

“It’s not, but it’s nicer than most. I’ve got a bedroom and everything.”

“Are these all magic?” he asked, inspecting the various plants and powders that scattered the large wooden table that took up most of the room.

“Just a few.”

James began to fiddle with a nearby orange flower but before he could lean down to smell it, Lily pushed him away from the table.

“Are you incapable of not doing stupid things or do you just have a death wish?” she snapped. “You don’t know what that is! It could’ve killed you.”

“It’s poison?”

“No it’s just a flower.”

“So I can smell it safely?”

“Well, yes, but you didn’t know that.”

James shrugged and went back to inspecting the plant collection.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you if you accidentally kill yourself,” said Lily, seating herself on a lone stool in the corner, picking up a pair of tatty boots and scrubbing them in the adjacent bucket.

James unabashedly inspected everything before him, pushing aside anything he found useless and sniffing anything he thought useful. Lily never once took her eyes off him, scrubbing blindly and splattering water on the dirt floor.

“Did you come here just to smell my wares?” she asked after a good five minutes of watching.

“No, I came here for your help.”

“Then what’s all this about?” she said.

“I’m looking for wolfsbane.”

“You could’ve just asked me if I have any.”

“Do you have any?”

“No.”

“You’re right that would’ve saved me some time,” he said, tossing aside a bay leaf and standing upright. “But to be fair, you didn’t stop me.”

“What happened to the wolfsbane I helped you find before?”

“It died.”

“Why didn’t you use it sooner?”

“The witch who was helping us died too.”

Lily took a moment, swallowed, then nodded curtly.

“And that’s what you’re here for?” she asked. “Wolfsbane potion?”

“Yes. I’ll pay anything.”

“That’s a terrible way to enter a deal.”

He shrugged.

“I can’t help you,” she said, “I wish I could, really I do. But I don’t know how to make that potion.”

“You can’t learn?”

“If I had the right book maybe. But I only have one and that potion’s not in it.”

James mimicked Lily’s earlier pause, swallow, and nod.

“This witch who was going to help you,” she began, “Do you know what happened to her things?”

“Seized as evidence.”

“Do you know where?”

“The palace probably.”

Lily was quiet for a long time and James did not dare disturb her.

“Okay,” she said eventually.

“Okay what?”

“I’ll help you.”

“How?”

“I’ll come down south with you, help you break into the palace, take the book, make the potion, and save your friend.”

James was at a complete loss for words. His mouth simply hung open, drying in the dusty air. The bravado with which Lily had displayed beforehand faded a little.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t have anything left here for me anymore. If I die trying to save a life then at least mine will have been worth something.”

“If you want to do something interesting you could come down south with me and take in a show?” he suggested.

“I thought you wanted to save your friend.”

“I do. But I’m not asking you to risk your life.”

“You don’t have to. I’m going to anyway.”

James was reminded vividly of himself as he met her determined stare and his admiration of her only grew.

“Okay. When do you wanna leave?”

“We need more wolfsbane.”

“Obviously, but I thought more along the lines of you saying goodbye to your friends, collecting your things.”

“We can go tonight, pick up the wolfsbane under cover of darkness and leave straight away.”

“Okay. Tonight it is. What should we do until then?”

“You still wanna buy me a drink?”

“I’ll trade you for…” James trailed off as he scanned the plant-covered table, “This.”

He picked up a small yellow flower and pocketed it.

“If you like,” replied Lily. “Just don’t eat it.”

As they wandered out into the sunlight and towards Cokeworth’s only tavern, they did not notice the pair of eyes watching their every step. Nor did they hear the pair of feet frantically running in the direction of the Cokeworth Witch Hunter headquarters.

Instead, the two of them entered the pub, found an empty table, and nursed their drinks in silence.

James wanted desperately to speak to Lily, to ask her more about her past, her magic, how she’d managed to stay hidden for so long with such a large and enthusiastic sect of Witch Hunters on her doorstep.

But none of this could be voiced in public and James could think of little else. So he drank and said nothing.

If Lily was filled with similar questions he had no way of knowing and the events that promptly followed eclipsed his curiosity.

The half hour in which they drank and shared no words beyond, “Would you like another?” and “Yeah okay,” ended rather abruptly with the entrance of around ten men holding a variety of weapons.

Lily gave them a side glance before downing the remainder of her ale and standing. James followed suit, without touching the ale (which was heavily watered and, James suspected, contaminated with something) and kept in step with Lily as she wandered towards the exit.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” she said casually, attempting to walk through them.

They did not part for her.

“She’s not part of it,” said one of the men, a familiar dark-haired, unattractive man James had twice humiliated.

“Part of what, Severus?” asked Lily.

“She’s been with him every time,” said the one at the front who James assumed to be the leader.

“He’s got her under some sort of spell,” replied Severus, giving James what was by far the dirtiest look he’d ever received.

As the other men brought their gaze upon him and tightened their grip on their weapons, James couldn’t help but feel that this little gathering was for his benefit.

“So,” said the leader, stepping towards James. “I’ve heard you’re a witch.”

“So,” said James, his hand reaching for his own weapon, “I’ve heard you hear a lot of bullshit.”

“You deny it?”

“Absolutely and completely.”

“Then you won’t mind being searched for anything suspicious.”

“I would absolutely mind. I have no idea where you’ve been.”

He and the leader were now so close that if they stepped any closer to one another, their chests would bump.

“You have no reason to suspect me of anything and you have no idea how much sway my family has. If I were you I’d back away right now and apologise to this young woman,” he gestured over to where Lily was staring down Severus, “For causing her any alarm.”

The leader gave James a cold smile before clicking his fingers. Three of the men moved forwards immediately and grabbed James’ arms, effectively restraining him. Another two began to search his bag and pockets.

“What’s this?” said one, pulling out the yellow flower.

“I picked it on the road here,” answered James immediately, “I wanted to give it to my fair companion who none of you have extended an apology to.”

“I hate to agree with this man,” said Severus, trying step around Lily and being prevented by her sudden outstretched hand. “Lily, what are you doing? This man is dangerous.”

“Because he showed everyone your underwear? If that’s so dangerous perhaps you should wash your pants more often.”

“Search her as well,” said the leader.

“She barely knows me,” cried James. “I’m just here to court her, bed her, then leave in the night breaking her heart. If I’m guilty of anything it’s being a scoundrel.”

Severus puffed up his chest and pushed past Lily’s arm. He snatched the flower from his companion and waved it under James’ nose.

“Is that what this is for? Does it put women under a spell? Does it make them fall for you?”

“No!”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a goddamn buttercup you idiots!” cried Lily, all attention turning onto her.

“It is?” asked James. “Then why did you tell me not to eat it?”

“Because it doesn’t taste like butter.”

“It was a joke? That’s actually pretty funny,” he conceded.

“Stop talking!” called out the leader, clearly uncomfortable that the attention had faded from him. “Grab her too she’s clearly involved.”

The two men closest to Lily made to restrain her but before they could so much as touch her, Lily’s hands ignited and they jumped backwards.

“You’re pathetic cowards!” she cried, the flames growing and spiralling off towards each and every single Witch Hunter in the tavern. “None of you have any idea what to do in the face of true witchcraft.”

Several fell the ground with a yelp; others began frantically patting down the parts of their clothing that were glaringly alight.

“Relax,” said Lily. “It won’t kill you. I, unlike any of you, know how to control my power.”

The flames suddenly vanished.

“Get the witch!” cried the leader.

“Wait!” cried Severus.

“Come with me!” cried Lily, grabbing James by the hand and pulling him out the door.

Flames erupted on either side of them as they ran, blocking anyone from reaching them. Once outside, the strength Lily had exhibited abated and James couldn’t help but notice her falter.

“Where’d you leave your horse?” she asked breathlessly.

“By your house,” said James, taking the lead and pulling Lily along with him.

In spite of this, their pace slowed dangerously and Lily’s legs looked as though they might collapse beneath her.

 “I’ll carry you,” he said, moving to scoop her up.

“Go on without me, you’ll move faster,” she wheezed.

James did not dignify this with a response and lifted Lily off of the ground. Once he was sure he wouldn’t drop her, he began to run towards the distant shape of Fleamount.

The sounds of flames behind him were replaced with that of determined footsteps.

“Just hold on, we’re almost there,” said James.

“Save your breath for running,” said Lily.

Upon reaching Fleamount, James helped Lily clamber onto his back before swinging himself up to sit behind her.

“Come on, boy,” he urged the horse back towards the main road, “Come on.”

Lily slumped back into James’ chest as Fleamount’s pace picked up. With the sound of clattering horseshoes, James barely heard her weakly say, “The forest.”

James steered them away from the road and they began to gallop towards the forbidden, foreboding thick cluster of trees, trying not to look over his shoulder at their pursuers.

He wanted to ask if they had horses, but he concentrated instead on reaching the boundary he knew they would not be followed across.

They were getting closer, but was that a stampede of horses behind them?

They were getting closer, but was Fleamount faltering?

They were getting closer, but what if the Witch Hunters ignored their fears and followed them into the forbidden forest?

They were getting closer, closer, closer, closer, and before another worry could cross James’ mind, they burst through the thicket, into dark, overgrown safety.


End file.
